It's MY Journey, and I'm Taking My Time

When I started on this journey of trying to get healthy (which began actually, as a journey to lose weight) my ideas of where I would end up were very different from where I am now I had this vision of what I would be able to accomplish.   I would be fit and thin, and I would RUN.   I would run like a gazelle.   I would be one of those people who ran every day to keep her sanity, and I would be SO PROUD of myself.   It would be just like one of those before and after success stories in magazines.   “This is Tina.   She once said she would never run unless someone was chasing her.   Now she’s preparing for her first…blah blah blah.”   Being able to run meant success.  It represented lightness…. I hit a snag in my plan though.   I don’t LIKE running, and turns out….neither does my body! I have come to realize, that idea of running to me, meant I’d won the battle.   If only I can run for hours, I would find the peace and pleasure I had been looking for.  

I have a 10 year old daughter.   And surrounding us, our neighbors have daughters of varying ages…older and younger, and they are all friends.  Relatively GOOD friend, and have been for many years.   And as usually happens when you put a lot of young girls together, there is often drama.  Egos and hormones and jealousies arise, and eventually there are tears, snotty words, or fights.  Most conflict is minor, and play resumes quickly. Well...this weekend, I had the windows open and was casually listening to their conversations, and I tell you what….I was flabbergasted.   They played just fine, and then for whatever reason, the conflict hit.   Now it wasn’t the conflict that hit me and rubbed me wrong, but their RESPONSE to it.   They began cutting one another down with insults, until one was crying and the rest left her alone in her yard.   It was staggering.   Not the words they used, or whatever it was that they were arguing about, but the fact, that e

Last week was a toughie.    I did something that made me stumble a little, and for starters….I have to thank you all.   I received more response to that particular post than any other I have written.   I think it struck a chord with so many of you.   Maybe your struggles aren’t the same as mine, but we all fight the battle of being good enough. And from that thought I began doing some research, which has lead to the internet, which has lead to some self diagnosis.  (oh dear LORD she’s been reading again!)   Are you ready??? MY NAME IS TINA, AND I AM AN ATELOPHOBIAC .  I say this in jest, but dang, who wouldda thunk?   There is actually a PHOBIA of not being good enough, and frankly, I’m beginning to think most everyone I know suffers from it a little.  It makes sense really.   We live in a world of competition.   We are taught from an early age that winning matters.   It gets the glory, the trophies, and the accolades.   There is always compet

You know what this is a picture of?   It's the space in my bathroom where my scale USED to live. I say "used to" because I had my husband take it away for good today.    I can't have it.   It breaks me. I made a critical error today.    I stepped on it for the first time in about two months.   I felt strong.   I felt confident.   And for that split second I felt that I needed validation of what I was feeling, so I looked to my nemesis the scale.   And guess what, as it always has in our torrid love affair....it let me down.   It broke my spirit. Immediate.   Bam! That number is something that in one fail swoop momentarily stripped me of all the positives I felt.   My heart sunk, and my spirit cracked.   I sat in my bathtub and cried.  I work so hard.   SO HARD.   I am strong, and healthy, and compassionate, and kind.   I don't cheat at this.   I try to live it.   And that one stupid step took a little piece of that away.